The thrill that ran down his body matched on her own, that site of pure exotic lust making her hunger for what was to come. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips, listening to his commands to come closer. His teeth collided with her nape, and she cooed at the thrill of it. Her whole body was alive, the fact that she was in season making every nerve come alight with each touch. Her body burned with sensual heat where he connected with her skin, and already she was craving more. Slowly the dame stepped even further, close enough that she pointed her nose at his cheek, stretching out to caress it with its cold dampness. This dull heat wasn't enough, she was craving a roaring fire. Her eyes pleaded with him, but she could not speak. He had not addressed her, and to speak out of line now may wind up to him leaving her in this state.
Not wishing that to take place, she kept her lips sealed, allowing a soft whine to break the silence between them. Would he keep her waiting, draw it out to torture her? Or would he force her into the black sand, taking her like the vicious beast he was. She drooled at the thought of the attack, she wanted him to bite her and take her. Bloodlust mixed with her erotic state, turning her into a dangerous little seductress. But she needed to hold that at bay, for the ivory being before her held much more power and thirst for blood than she did. Othello was simply feeding off of his energy as her heart pounded in her chest.
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